Return of Mullenkamp
by Tsaiko
Summary: Mullenkamp is reborn, and returns to Lea Monde four years later in an attempt to discover what has happened.
1. Dark as Night

As Dark as Night

> > _"My thoughts and my discourse as madman's are,   
At random from the truth vainly express'd;   
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,   
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night."_   
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 147
> 
>   
  
The young girl stood at the entrance of the tent, looking past the fire that surrounded the camp to the desert beyond. Thick bracelets of intricate silver and gold worked with beads and jewels covered slim forearms. A stray night wind played among the tiny bells and intricate beadwork that covered the thin cloth of her outfit. Around her neck, hung a heavy necklace strung with coins and fine gemstones.   
  
"Ameera! Come back into the tent. You will bring shame upon us all if a man were to see you without your veil." The voice was commanding, almost waspish. The girl turned to look over her shoulder. Thick rugs and pillows covered in geometric designs covered the floor of the women's tent. The woman who had spoken, Najmah, even now was making her way towards where the girl stood.   
  
"I am in the tent. But soon I will leave it. I know now what I must do," the girl said in a calm voice. Some of the older girls and younger women giggled.   
  
"What you must do is be good to your future husband. Your father and Shahin have worked hard to get you such a good match. It is not often that one so young finds such a strong husband." The woman grabbed the girl's arm, her fingers strong and unyielding. She drug the unresisting girl farther into the tent before forcing her to sit.   
  
"Now eat. You are too skinny as it is. Your husband will never take you to bed if all he feels is bones beneath his hands." More laughter came from the other women. It was silenced with a look from Najmah. Her power lay in her neither her looks nor her personality, but the large dowry she had brought her husband all those years ago.   
  
"You worry too much, Najmah. Ameera is as graceful as a gazelle, as beautiful as a desert bloom, as sweet as honey. After the bitter sands and harsh heat, Misbah will be as glad to come to her as a dying man is to come to an oasis," said Tasnim, a women in her twenties pregnant with her fourth child.   
  
Murmurs of agreement met the statement. It was a common topic of gossip when Najmah was not around. How someone so plain and vicious could produce a child as quiet and beautiful as Ameera. Unconvinced Najmah tossed her head, sending beads and bells tinkling.   
  
"I need a knife," the girl said into the waiting stillness. A plate of pita and hommus was laid before her. Pieces of spiced goat meat, dried apricots, dates, and white goat cheese accompanied the otherwise simple fare. One of the other women, thinking that Ameera wanted to cut the meat smaller, handed her a plain dagger.   
  
"Ameera! What are you doing?" The women all stared as the young girl took the gleaming blade to her hair. The dark black strand fell in a silken pile. When the girl was done her hair, once falling past the back of her knees, barely came even with her chin.   
  
It was only after the deed was done that anyone could overcome the shock enough to react.   
  
"What have you done? A woman's beauty lies in her hair. Why do you think are so careful to cover it less it make men covet another's wife? Do you realize what you have done?" Najmah grabbed for her daughter intent on shaking reason into a girl who had suddenly gone mad. "You will not destroy this marriage with your childish whims. I will not have it!"   
  
The entire women's tent had gone silent as the girl they had always thought of as Ameera held a knife to her mother's throat. "Woman, you may have given birth to this body but you are not my mother." The voice was soft, high pitched, child-like. The voice of a ten year old girl who was about to be betrothed by her parents. The words were much older, ringing with an accent that had long been wiped out by the shifting desert sands.   
  
A casual shove sent Najmah stumbling backwards. Her feet tripped over the tray that had held the girl's dinner. The food went everywhere. Women screeched, trying to avoid damage to their embroidered clothing. Najmah looked up from her place on the floor, covered in green-gray hommus at the demon who had taken over her only child.   
  
"There will be no betrothal, no ceremony. I will take no man from this land as my husband. I will not live in these tents, nor will I show you any consideration should we meet again some day. Ameera is dead, as if she had never lived. I will go wherever I please however I please. Men will look upon my uncovered hair and covet what they cannot achieve. The power that is mine alone, to give to whom I choose when I choose," the girl spat the words into the tent.   
  
She held the dagger in front of her. As if it were a weapon she knew fully well how to use, even though this was the first time she had touched a blade to do anything but cut her food. Dark eyes moved from woman to woman, daring them to protest. Nobody did.   
  
"I call upon the rights and privileges of a Seeker. Before dawn, three horses will be prepared. One to carry myself and all I take with me. Another to carry as much food and water as your tribe can spare without starving. A third to carry gifts from every family of your tribe." The girl drew herself up, commanding the women as if she had been born to do so.   
  
"But you are of this tribe, and a woman..." Tasnim began to protest. One look from the girl's cold eyes stopped her.   
  
"I am not a woman. No woman would dare act the way I must, the way I am." Several of the women nodded, more than willing to accept the explanation given. Anything to provide stable footing in a world that had suddenly gone awry.   
  
Then the girl looked around as if realizing no one was moving. "What are you waiting for?" The knife was thrown downwards, where is sank into a thick pillow blade first. "I want food and drink to refresh myself. Rouse the men and have them get the horses. Everything must be ready before dawn." She clapped her hands, startling everyone with the sound. "NOW!"   
  
As if she had just kicked over a anthill, the women's tent became a flurry of activity at the girl's commands. Pillows were straightened, food was brought, and the girl that was once Ameera sat down to eat. Mint tea and replacements for the foods spilled earlier were set on a tray before her. As she dipped the pita bread into the hommus, the girl could hear the women comforting a crying Najmah. But the woman's wails did not concern her. Only the reason why she was here did. 
> 
> ______________________________________________________
> 
> Outside the girl could hear the stirrings of a camp that had thought to sleep the rest of the night. She could here the confused chatter of women, the deeper notes of annoyed men. The dogs had sensed something, as had the horses, goats, and other animals. They added their voices to the still night. But inside the tent was quiet, all the women having gone to fufill her commands. None of them wanted to be left with the girl who was suddenly possessed. None of them wanted her to think they were not doing as she commanded.   
  
_Simpering, conceited, gossiping fools. And I thought they had bred the brains out of them over two millennia ago. Why I have to be born a woman in this land every time something requires my attention is beyond me._ The girl frowned, her thoughts pensive and amused at the same time.   
  
_Let's see. By my guess my father and my supposed husband-to-be will come through that door any minute. They will think that the women have become hysterical over a little girl's nervousness about leaving her family as we women are want to do. I'll have to think of something to prove just how serious this is._ A sudden smile lit her face, making her appear as innocent at the body she now wore.   
  
With the grace and fluidity of a born dancer, the girl retrieved the knife and got to her feet. The blade glinted in the brazier light. The girl placed the sharp edge against the skin of her palm, and braced herself for the pain. Then she drew it across her hand. Blood welled up in a crimson line as she repeated an ancient spell. 
> 
> "By this blood I call you now, in a bond as old as time,   
Set in stone and writ in pain, delivered to you in rhyme   
Demon born and demon bred, of darkness and of night,   
I call ye now to stand by my side, to live, to die, to fight." 
> 
> She winced at the high-pitched sign-song quality youth gave her voice. Power flowed out of the wound, giving form and substance to the shadows of the tent. The girl grabbed an odd scrap of cloth and used it to stop the bleeding. The darkness coalesced into the form of two Bedouin, covered head to toe in black and crimson cloth, glinting scimitars pushed through their belts. Only their eyes could be seen, deep red coals sunk into impossibly black skin.   
  
"Welcome. You recognize who I am, even in this body?" The girl cocked her head to one side when she asked her question. Red eyes flared brighter for a moment. Assessing. Then one of the dark djinn spoke.   
  
_Yes, Dark Lady. It is why we came. You have been reborn and have need of our service until you come into your full power._   
  
"Correction. I have need of your service until we reach the end of the desert sands. Or I finish whatever I have been reborn to do. You are tied to this land, and it is not yet time for my final rising." The two djinn bowed at her words. "Serve as my protectors. Keep me from harm as I travel. That is what I require of you."   
  
_As you wish, Dark Lady._   
  
The girl sat back down on the cushions. Less than a minute later the tent flap was pushed open and two men entered. The elder one was Ahkmed al Fazim, Najmah's husband and sire of the girl. The younger was unknown to her, about sixteen in age, and not bad looking. _This must be Misbah. The one I would have married had I not remembered._   
  
"Ameera! What have you done to upset your mother so? I will not have you... Your hair. You have cut your hair." The girl watched as Ahkmed stared in shock. Misbah eyes flickered hungrily over her body. To them, she was barely clothed without her veils. Then he noticed the two shadows which stood on either side of her.   
  
"What kind of girl have you born, that can raise the dark djinn?" Misbah asked as his hand came to rest on the dagger by his side. The girl nodded, conceding the younger man her respect. _He is no fool. I have a feeling I would have enjoyed having him as a husband had things played out differently. _   
  
"You must be mistaken. My daughter has no knowledge of magic. There has to be a mistake." Ahkmed turned to Misbah, apology in his voice. Then he rounded on his daughter. "What have you been meddling with girl? Do you seek to make a fool of me? Ameera you will stop this nonsense at once! You will marry who I choose, assuming you have not destroyed any prospects of a decent marriage. We will never talk about this night again."   
  
"I am afraid that that will not happen." The girl slowly got to her feet. The two dark djinn moved to stand on either side, exactly one step behind her. Supporting her should she need it. "I am Ameera no more. As far as you are concerned, she is dead. Make up whatever tragic story you so choose to explain my disappearance. It makes no difference to me."   
  
"With all respect, al Fazim, that is not your daughter. No girl of ten would speak that way," Misbah said. "Who are you, spirit? What have you done to this man's child?"   
  
"It is true that I am born of this man's flesh. I hold the memories of his daughter. But I have much older memories that demand that I take up a course different from he and his wife had planned. I must seek out what has awakened these memories and put them to rest."   
  
The mood inside the tent was tense, neither side willing to concede. Then Misbah nodded. "I am sorry, al Fazim, for the loss of your daughter. Let us hope she has been called to a better life."   
  
"But the arrangement..." Like a drowning man to a rope, or a merchant to his gold, Ahkmed clung to his vision of the future to the very end. It was no use. The battle had been fought and won before he had stepped into the tent. Misbah shepherded the older man out of the tent, talking about his interest in the daughter of Ahkmed's second wife.   
  
The girl released a breath she was not aware she was holding. _That went better than it could have. Better than last when I had to have the djinn kill that greedy slave seller into in order to leave. Now all I can do is wait, until the horses are ready_   
  
Sometime later Yasmina, a timid not much older than she was girl with veils draped to reveal nothing but her eyes, entered the tent. "The horses are ready Amee.. lady. You will be pleased by all that we have offered to you." The girl nodded and followed Yasmina out into the night.   
  
High above the stars of the constellation wheeled in their nightly journey through the sky. Closer to the ground, torches burned pushing back the night. The two dark djinn came through the fabric of the tent, like water squeezed through cloth. Yasmina gasped, but made no commet.   
  
The entire tribe was gathered around the center of camp. Both girls headed in that direction. Small children were hushed by their parents, and a few of the babies squalled when she pass. Dogs she had known all her life growled at her as if she were stranger. Two of the bravest men of the tribe and Misbah held three horses in a circle of torch light.   
  
They were good animals, pure bred and swift. The two pack horses were males, culled from the herds as slightly inferior and cut to prevent breeding. A black mare, her hackmore decked with beadwork and scarlet tassels, would be serve as the girl's mount. She nodded her approval of the tribe's choice.   
  
"They will do, al Fazim. I approve." Ahkmed winced at her formal, distant tone. The girl who had been his daughter spoke with the voice of a stranger. "It will be morning in a few hours. I wish to journey as far as I can in that time. I wish you and your tribe much luck in the desert."   
  
Najmah started her wailing again and the other women rushed to quiet her. Ahkmed ignored his first wife. "I am sorry that you must go. Even if I never see you again, I will always remember you and this night." If possible, the wailing got louder. If the girl didn't know better, she would have sworn even the dark djinn winced.   
  
The girl walked forwards and took the reins of the black mare from Misbah. He offered her his cupped palms to mount. She ignored them, managing to swing her small frame aboard without help. Her heavy jewelry clanked with the effort. Ahkmed winced. She was riding off with small fortune, and everyone knew it.   
  
A sharp command to the packhorses to make sure they would follow her, and the girl was ready to leave. A hand around her wrist gave her pause. The dark djinn crowded closer, their hands on their scimitars. The girl raised her hand, stalling their protective gestures. She looked down into the brown eyes of Misbah as he stared up at her.   
  
"One thing before you go. You are no longer Ameera. If should meet again, what should I call you?" A slight pressure and the black mare took the girl away from the young man. He let her go.   
  
The tribe moved to one side, clearing a path for the girl and the djinn to follow. It looked like she would refuse to answer Misbah question as she rode away from the center of camp. Then she stopped, and turned around in her saddle. Her voice was eerily loud as the words echoed in the sudden silence.   
  
"You may call me Müllenkamp."   
  


**As Dark as Night**  
A Vagrant Story Fanfic  
[Tsaiko][1]  
_© 2001, Tsaiko_  


   [1]: mailto:tsaiko1@hotmail.com



	2. Death in a Strange City

Death in a Strange City

> > _"Lo! Death has reared himself a throne   
In a strange city, lying alone   
Far down within the dim West   
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best   
Have gone to their eternal rest."_   
Edgar Allen Poe, The City in the Sea
> 
>   
  
"There, Dark Lady." The lizard man growled in his deep voice. Even though he spoke in his own language of hisses and chirps, Müllenkamp understood. He cocked his head, from one side to the other, studying the ruined city below them. "The City of a Thousand Dead."   
  
Müllenkamp surveyed the scene before her from her higher perch a top the black mare. A crumbling city rising out of the cold mists of morning. Like a giant ring with a towering cathedral as its jewel. _Leá Monde. So this is where my journey ends. I should have known. One of the northern most of my strongholds._   
  
Frost covered the brittle, yellowing grass of last summer. The horses' breaths plumed in the chilly air. Winter was fighting to keep its hold on the land, and Spring seemed to be losing what ground it had gained these last few weeks. Müllenkamp drew her fur lined cloak closer around her. The two lizard men who had accompanied her to the city did the same with their own leather ones.   
  
_This is harder on them than it is on me. They were barely out of hibernation when I came across their den. Yet the den offered me their two best warriors._ Müllenkamp smiled ruefully. _A better offer than some others have given me._   
  
It had taken her four years since she had regained the memories of who she was to come to this place. Four incredibly long years of journeying, searching, going on nothing more than gossip and rumors. She had searched out those sworn to or allied with the Dark. Sometimes they simply appeared, drawn to her power. Again and again they spoke of a disturbance of the Dark. Again and again she had asked of its source. _To the north and to the west._ The answer was repeated to her as if it were a mantra.   
  
As if the problem of seeking out the source of the disturbance was not bad enough, she had to contend with her own followers. Getting any of the grubby little misers to supply her in her travels was a task unto itself. _That is why like the lizard people and the orcs, the goblins and imps. So simple and loyal. They understand who is in charge. Perhaps I should just wipe out all my human followers and start over._   
  
There had been a great disturbance in the Dark. That, along with the increased persecutions of those aligned with the Dark by the Templars, had made its minions uneasy. Whenever she rode into a stronghold of the Dark, Müllenkamp was literally mobbed as those sworn to what she represented sought an easing of their fears. She could give them none.   
  
_And because I knew not what had happened, and could not promise them protection from what might come, they were reluctant to give me what I needed. After all, what if it came to pass that they needed it themselves? Fools, all of them. Do they not realize that if I am called, then it is to set matters aright?_   
  
"Is there a entrance to the city?" Müllenkamp asked in a series of hisses and grunts. The green lizard man, the one that seemed marginally smarter of the two, cocked his head in thought. The red blood lizard did not even acknowledge the question. He simply leaned against the Boar Spear he carried and watched the surrounding countryside for possible threats.   
  
"Earth trembled almost three clutches ago. Rent in ground stops us. Boats sink now. Some found way in. Made den there. Earth trembled more. Gone." The lizard man flicked a tongue out, tasting the air. "Our den not enter. Not gone."   
  
_Three clutches. If nothing much has changed, the lizard people clutch every ten years. A little under every fifteen years for the blood lizards. So that would put what happened at about thirty years?_   
  
"Thirty years ago the earth trembled? An earthquake? How very odd in a city I designed specifically to last until my last rising," she mused in her own language. The lizard man watched her but did not reply. Müllenkamp doubted he even understood her words. "The more answers I try to find the more questions I have."   
  
"Other news about The City of a Thousand Dead?" She asked the lizard man. Her mare stamped its hooves, shaking the bridle to rattle the metal bits. The green one shook his head. But for the first time, the blood lizard spoke.   
  
"Humans still come here. Like before. Rat ones now. I taste their stink." The red and silver head swiveled around to stare at Müllenkamp with unblinking yellow eyes. "I was sent after last time. Blood and death in the air. Do not go in, Dark Lady."   
  
She held up a hand both to forestall any other words and to give herself time to decipher the meaning of what the blood lizard had said. _Rat ones. The lizard people call rats the ultimate thieves. Perhaps only thieves go to Leá Monde now? And what was that about the last time?_   
  
"Last time? When? What happened?"   
  
"After last green clutching. Humans come. Some with bad rood." _Churchmen._ Müllenkamp silently translated. "Follow ones of Dark. Follow one with good rood. Few come out. New one with good rood come out. Dark no longer flow here."   
  
"My Roodbearer was here? Less than ten years ago as well. And the rood changed hands from one to another. But even that, even here, should not have caused the Dark to stop flowing. I am missing something, pieces of a puzzle. It looks as if I must enter Leá Monde." Müllenkamp swung off her horse, onto the ground. The dead grass crunched under her feet. From this new vantage point both lizard men loomed above her.   
  
"I must go into the city." Both lizard men hissed their dismay and protest at her words. "There is no other way. Take my animals to the human den east of your den at night. A man of the Dark will care for them. I will get them when I am done." Müllenkamp finished her speech, rubbing her throat in discomfort. She took a waterskin from her horse's saddlebag and drank. The cool water soothed her throat. Speaking in the lizard people's tongue for long periods of time always hurt.   
  
"We will go with you." The blood lizard stated. The green lizard nodded and growled his agreement. Müllenkamp took enough bread, cheese, and a few withered apples to last her for two days. There were plenty of places in the city to find water, assuming the springs were untainted. With the Dark gone, wild game was sure to have taken over. If need be, she could hunt for her meals.   
  
"No. I release you. You are both slow. I will need speed. I will be protected. The Dark will provide." The lizard men hissed once again in protest, but conceded. "Take the animals." The green lizard man took a hold of the reins. The black mare started, eyes rolling. A few words and Müllenkamp calmed the skittish horse. The other two packhorses were equally nervous around the lizard men, but would follow the mare's lead.   
  
The lizard man lead the horses away, back towards the woods and the safety of civilization. Müllenkamp ignored the urge to watch them go. The black mare was the only survivor of the three horses she had started out with four years ago. She was a good horse, and Müllenkamp realized she would miss her. Instead, the priestess of the Dark looked towards the broken city of Leá Monde.   
  
"Dark Lady!" Müllenkamp turned in time to see the blood lizard racing back towards her. Despite the cold, and their clumsy appearance the lizard people could move with frightening speed when they wanted to. "A gift. To protect." The blood lizard offered her a sheathed weapon, and Müllenkamp gratefully took it.   
  
"I found it covered in blood. Near the City of a Thousand Dead. It is a good blade. Finer metal than what we make." It was a stiletto, made of the metal hagane. The places where two gems could go, one at the end of the hilt, the other in the guard, stared up at Müllenkamp like empty eye sockets. She turned in over in her hands, testing the weight. It was indeed a fine blade.   
  
"Thank you. I will remember your den and the gift you have given me." The blood lizard nodded, yellow eyes unreadable. With a graceful turn, he started after his companion. Then he was gone.   
  
Müllenkamp turned back towards the city, watching the first rays of the sun begin to penetrate the cold fog that hung low to the ground. _I will have to find a way to enter the city. Perhaps those I left in charge managed to put in the wine cellars they talked so fondly of. That would be a good place to start._   
  
With that thought, the priestess of the Dark began her search. 
> 
> ______________________________________________________
> 
> _The Dark will provide._   
  
Müllenkamp had uttered the words with complete faith. Over two millennia ago she had made a covenant with the powers called the Dark. One of the stipulations was that after death, should she find herself once again walking the mortal world, the Dark would provide her with protectors of its choosing. Hours had gone by since she had dismissed the lizard men from their duty as protectors. She had yet to see their replacements.   
  
An hour of searching above ground had put her no closer to finding a way in. The sun had long since burnt off the early mist, but providing little warmth. It did provide enough heat to melt the frost to dew. It covered everything that touched it with cold damp. She had just started contemplating a long walk back to the lizard men's den when a piece of mortared stone had caught her eye. Müllenkamp had walked towards the pale stone only to trip over the entrance to the underground of Leá Monde. Literally. Luckily nothing was hurt except her pride.   
  
The stone underground proved to be even colder than the air above. It was the deep bone-gnawing cold of caves and mines, catacombs and wine cellars. A perfect environment for those who wanted to preserve the wines they had worked so hard to make. Müllenkamp was sure that in the summer the cold would be a refreshing change from the humid heat. In the early spring, it was just bitter.   
  
Once torches in scones had lit the way for those traversing the dark underground. No longer. An eternal night had settled upon the cellars, cloaking all in darkness. As Müllenkamp descended the stairs the pale light of earlt morning faded quickly away. It was time for a light spell.   
  
That had proved to be as easy as herding cats. She, priestess of the Dark and possibly the best sorceress to have ever lived, had called upon the Dark and _received no answer._ Twenty minutes later, shaking and sweating in the cold, Müllenkamp finally got the torches of the room to come sputtering to life. Somehow she managed to keep the spell going. But it only lasted if she was in the room. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the torches would die, and the ones for the new room would spring to life. A spell that should have lit the entire series of catacombs barely provided enough weaklight for a single room.   
  
The Dark had not simply been stilled in Leá Monde. It had been drained, like removing a plug from the bottom of a barrel. Only now was it beginning to reclaim the area creeping through the cracks into the city proper. But there was not nearly enough power for Müllenkamp to do more than the most basic of spells. Not without draining herself dangerously low.   
  
Four rooms into the wine cellars had provided another ugly surprise. None of the cloud stones worked. They lay heavily on the ground, some smashed to many pieces, like birds with broken wings. And Müllenkamp simply did not have the power to reanimate and fix them. This had led to a lot of jumping, climbing, and swearing on the high priestess's part. Her hand were bruised and her fingernails bled where she had used them to grip tricky stone walls. Slime and grit turned the underside of her nails dark. Every time her hand encountered a spot slick with slime, the priestess shuddered.   
  
_The Dark will provide. So far, my friend, all you've provided me with is a fierce headache, unending cold, decades worth of thick grime, and a deep down desire to kill something. Why is it always the smallest phrases we learn to regret?_ Müllenkamp thought as she rested on a piece of dislodged stone.   
  
She had stopped in this room to eat a meal consisting of half a loaf of bread, some water, a thick slice of cheese, and one slightly withered apple. The evidence of earthquakes covered the floor in the form of broken masonry. Thick cracks ran along the walls. Uneven flagstones threatened to trip the unwary. Torch light danced, revealing places where nitre hung in thick white strands.   
  
"Light..." Müllenkamp jumped at the word, spoken so close behind her. She whirled towards the sound. There stood a giant of a man, hair and skin pale, muscles clearly defined by tattered black leather. He was holding an axe so big in seemed unreal. The blade drug the ground, leaving a shallow furrow in its wake.   
  
Always an admirer of fine blades, Müllenkamp winced at the abuse. The man didn't seem to have noticed her. He was staring entranced at the flickering torches. His eyes moved from one to the other, looking at them like a man lost in the desert would look at an oasis. Müllenkamp realized that she could not remain unnoticed for long.   
  
As so slowly as she dared, Müllenkamp drew the stiletto the blood lizard had given her from its sheath. The light from the torches ran down the blade like liquid fire. The weapon seemed pathetically small when compared to the giant's axe. Yet it was all she had. _With the Dark at my bidding, I would have nothing to fear from him. But the Dark no longer rules Leá Monde. It would appear that I am very much on my own._   
  
The thought made her shiver. She could not help but notice how big, how powerful, how unyielding this man was. How small, and slender, and young her own body was. Should the stranger try anything there would be no way for her to stop him. The silence in the chamber stretched out, every second an eternity for Müllenkamp as she waited for the giant to notice her.   
  
Dark eyes finally finished their inspection of the room and settled on her. A subtle tension took over the stranger's body. The axe stopped its scraping of the floor, brought up before the giant in a defensive hold. "You..." the words were uttered slowly, an accusation that hung in the air between them. Müllenkamp tensed, ready to fight for her life. Then confusion creased the giant's brow. "Who are you?"   
  
"I do not want to fight," Müllenkamp replied. Her grasp of the language of Valendia was not complete. She could form simple sentences, could string more complex phrases together using conjunctions, could conjugate the most common verbs. Anything more complex than that, and she was at a lost. Always a master of languages and the subtle art of words, Müllenkamp found her inability annoying. It made her sound like a eight year when she talked.   
  
"You can call the light forth. Spells still work for you." The giant had relaxed his grip on the axe. Wary but no longer feeling threatened, Müllenkamp dropped out of a defensive stance.   
  
"Yes, I can call forth the light." She used the phrasing he had, hoping that the sentence had come out right. "It is hard. You cannot?"   
  
"There was always dark. I tried to call the light, but it was gone. So I lived in the dark." His voice was distant, hollow, like a child reliving a past horror. Then he shook himself. "There are others in this city. You should not walk here alone."   
  
Something had been bothering Müllenkamp the entire time, a niggling at the back of her mind. Finally she was able to figure out. The giant spoke in the slightly too loud voice of someone who is no longer quite all there. _Broken minded, as my people say it. I wonder what the Valendian word for it is?_   
  
"You were in the dark a long time. I walk in light. Go with me, and you walk in light." Müllenkamp said slowly. The giant watched her, dark eyes glazed and unreadable. Finally, he gave her an answer.   
  
"I am tired of the dark." The tone held the wistfulness of a lost child. The giant seemed to crumple, sitting abruptly on the ground, unmindful of the dirt and grime. His huge axe was cradled in his lap. "I will go with you. I will protect you. Just don't take the light away."   
  
"I will not." Only now did she resheathe her drawn blade. _The Dark will provide._ She returned to bags of food she had brought, removed a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese, and walked over to the giant. Then Müllenkamp offered the food to him. "Eat." He took the food from her hands with extreme care, but ate with all the manners of a mongrel dog once it was in his grasp.   
  
"My name is Müllenkamp." That evoked a reaction. The giant's head came up, a piece of bread protruding from his lips. It would have been funny had it not been for his eyes. They burned with recognition, and a hatred so fierce that Müllenkamp felt it like a physical pain in her being. His knuckles were white where they gripped the axe. _I am going to die._   
  
Then it was gone, and flatness returned to those dark eyes. Müllenkamp lay a hand on her chest, listening to her uneven breathing, feeling the wild beating of her heart. Adrenaline still raced through her system. The giant finished chewing the bread he had been eating, then finally spoke.   
  
"My name is Tieger."   
  


  


**Death in a Strange City**  
A Vagrant Story Fanfic  
By [Tsaiko][1]  
_© 2001, Tsaiko_  


   [1]: mailto:tsaiko1@hotmail.com



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